


always a thing of wonder (the way we come to be)

by nightbloods



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Sort Of, Soulmates AU, hang the dj au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-04-14 06:48:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14130435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightbloods/pseuds/nightbloods
Summary: Felicity Smoak puts her dating life in the hands of an algorithm designed to lead her to her soulmate. Along the way, she encounters the last person she expects: Oliver Queen. Despite circumstances that pair the two of them with other people, somehow they can't seem to stay away from one another.Soulmates AU inspired by Black Mirror's "Hang the DJ."





	1. big old world indeed

**Author's Note:**

> alright, so this has been in the works for a while now. it's based around the black mirror episode "hang the dj", but i've worked pretty hard to make sure it's grounded in reality enough for it to make sense even if you haven't seen the episode. think of it as a strange take on a soulmates au if you'd like. that said, if you have seen it, be aware that this is a somewhat simplified version of that storyline. 
> 
> there has been a lot of work poured into this, and i've had fun writing it, so i hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> work title and chapter titles all come from ben howard's "in dreams".

Just a few months ago, Felicity would’ve laughed at the situation she’s found herself in. It’s not that she doesn’t believe in love or soulmates or any of those flowery, idealistic concepts the world around her seems hellbent on selling. She’s a lot of things, but Felicity Smoak is far from a cynic. A realist, maybe, but not a cynic. Love is out there, she can concede to that simple fact. She would even go as far as to say it’s something she hopes for, maybe as far as to believe in the idea of The One person she’s meant to spend the rest of her life with. 

 

What she finds so absolutely laughable about this whole situation is the idea that a computer system is going to be the way she finds that person. Her soulmate, as everyone around her would have her believe, is going to be selected by an immersive, glorified version of Tinder. 

 

But honestly, she’s curious. When Queen Consolidated first launched The System, Felicity had expected to watch it crash and burn in a matter of months. It’s been years now since then and she’s watched the people around her gradually give in to the idea of spending a while in the System and coming out with the love of their lives. Society as a whole has begun to shift around it; being matched with strangers until an algorithm finds your soulmate has become a new normal. 

 

When QC offered her a job, Felicity hadn’t hesitated to accept it. She was right out of college, and they were one of the most prestigious companies in the country. Along with her employment, she was offered a free go at the System. A brand new job and the love of her life: it’s a great deal, right? 

 

Despite her apprehensions, Felicity rationalized that she would have a hard time writing code for a system that she had no experience with. Aside from the basics, QC has managed to keep a lock on the specifics of how the System works and Felicity supposes the only way she’s going to get a real handle on it is to go through it herself. And so, here she is in some idyllic paradise, willingly putting herself at the mercy of a system shrouded in mystery. 

 

Her obsession with finding answers and knowing every piece to a puzzle is really going to get her in a mess one day. 

 

First impression: the Hub, or whatever it is that they’re calling it, is a lot less impressive than everyone makes it out to be. It’s the sort of middle-of-nowhere setting that’s designed so as to not feel intimidating or overwhelming all while distracting a person from the fact that they’re in the middle of nowhere. Three or four streets make up the central area where the activity seems to be concentrated; a handful of buildings are scattered around, all with their lights on and a few people milling around inside. A woman with a long ponytail jogs past Felicity on the sidewalk, smiling in passing. Nothing is notably busy, and Felicity supposes this is meant to give the place a cozy, small town kind of vibe. 

 

In reality, the place feels a little more like a ghost town, all dressed up and playing make believe. With the sun setting behind it all, dusk makes the place feel hollow and fake. 

 

It reminds her of new shopping centers in run-down cities, new malls full of pristine shops plastered with big, corporate names meant to bring new life to an area. It feels artificial. 

 

Suffice to say, Felicity is far from blown away by the whole set up. 

 

It’s hard to believe that this is the place she’s heard so much about; the beautiful, comfortable community tucked away from any big cities, the place where everyone goes to find the person they’ll spend the rest of their life with. Maybe it’s the cloudy weather that makes it seem so completely underwhelming, or maybe it’s Felicity’s doubts coloring the situation, but the place doesn’t seem exactly magical. 

 

The building Felicity has been directed to is small, a lot less conspicuous than she had imagined it being. Despite knowing she was meant to be at a cafe, she still expected something more than the simple setup in front of her. There are glass doors and plenty of windows that offer a view of the pastry case and the arm chairs scattered around the place. Even if the whole place smacks of artificiality, it still gives a familiar safe feeling. 

 

It all seems incredibly  _ normal. _ Nothing like the glossy, idealized picture she and everyone she knows have been sold for nearly as long as she can remember. 

 

As soon as Felicity opens the doors, the device in her hand buzzes, startling her. This is the only tool she was given to help her navigate the System; an AI-based, interactive device meant to help guide her while she’s here. The screen offers a map of the layout of the room and a blinking avatar where the person she’s looking for is supposed to be. The place is hardly crowded, only a few people milling around here and there, so it isn’t hard to zero in on where they’re supposed to be. Looking up from the small screen, Felicity freezes. 

 

The man is in the back corner, out of the way of everyone else. Felicity recognizes the spot as a good place to keep an eye on the room; there isn’t much he can’t see from his vantage point. Still, despite what must have been a purposeful choice on his part to choose that place to sit, she sees him before he sees her. 

 

It’s not that she knows him well, or even at all. He is a vague connection to a name and a face and a life path that has certainly never crossed with hers before. Still, it’s enough to have her cursing under her breath.

 

Adjusting the bag on her shoulder, Felicity lets out a breath and makes her way across the room to him. She’s always heard that your first pairing is hardly ever meaningful, more of a trial run than anything, so she may as well just get this over with. 

 

She makes it all the way to the table he’s sitting at before a chair catches the strap on her bag and yanks it from her shoulder. Perfect, really. 

 

This all has to be some kind of joke. 

 

“Sorry, sorry, I’m just such a klutz, you’d think they would’ve accounted for that before sending me in here with so many things to trip over.” She says, mostly to herself, to fill the awkward silence somehow. Nearly the entire contents of her bag is now on the floor, so Felicity makes quick work of stuffing it all back in. When she looks up, the man is no longer where he was sitting a few moments before. Felicity sighs, hoping that this was all some mix-up, some kind of joke, maybe. Is it possible she hallucinated the entire situation? Is it possible that this entire thing could be a glitch? Her doubts about this whole thing creep steadily back into her head. 

 

Her mind is so busy trying to figure out her next move that when someone clears their throat from beside her, she’s so startled her bag nearly takes another nosedive. When she turns, the same man is standing beside her. 

 

“ _ Fuck. _ ” It would’ve almost been easier if he had bolted.

 

He is wearing a sheepish look that seems out of place on his face- a good face, Felicity admits to herself. He’s handsome, all bright eyes and scruff. He looks different in person, a far cry from the picture the tabloids paint him into. 

 

She finally focuses her attention on the hand he’s outstretched towards her, and he’s holding out a red pen that must’ve went rogue and rolled off when she dropped her bag. 

 

“Your pen,” he says, voice low, somehow softer than she’d imagined it would be.

 

“Felicity,” she jumps to reply, “I mean, thank you. My name is Felicity, not the pen’s. The pen doesn’t have a name-”

 

“Oliver,” he cuts off her ramble with a small smile, gentler than she expects.

 

“I know your name, Mr. Queen,” She says awkwardly, shifting in her heels. “Oh god, that sounded really creepy. I just mean- it’s kind of hard to forget what you look like-” her hands move with their own mind, gesturing to his body and Felicity can feel herself turning red in horror as she watches her arms carry out the action. 

 

Quickly, she pins her arms back at her side and stops her train of thought in its tracks.  _ Three, two, one.  _ She takes a steadying breath, determined to stave off her ramble before she has to run out the door and skip town to save herself the embarrassment. 

 

“This whole thing- the System- your family’s company made it. Of course I know who you are.”

 

He just shakes his head, that same soft, amused smile on his face, and easily dismissing her ramble. “Call me Oliver. Mr. Queen was my dad.”

 

Felicity nods, biting her tongue against the urge to keep talking. She watches as Oliver pulls out a chair for her, smiling easily. He’s charming, incredibly charming, and that part is not surprising in the slightest. Some dusty part of her brain remembers seeing him in magazines, on the news when he was younger. Star City’s golden boy, never anywhere without a girl or two on his arm. Even aside from belonging to one of the richest, most influential families in the country, he was notorious for charming his way out of trouble. Though Felicity hasn’t seen much of him in the news in recent years, she doubts much of that has changed since his return to Starling City. 

 

A cheery waitress steps up to the table she and Oliver are seated at, breaking Felicity out of her spiraling train of thought. She has two cups in her hands and moves to sit them down on the table before Felicity objects. 

 

“We didn’t, um, we haven’t ordered anything yet,” casting an uncertain glance to Oliver, he nods back at her to confirm. “These aren’t ours.”

 

The waitress smiles, perfunctory and almost robot-like. Like the rest of the place, it’s too perfect, too intentional. When she opens her mouth, her voice is unsettlingly smooth. “Your orders were placed as part of your participation and based on the data from your profiles.” She sets the drinks on the table; something hot and black in front of Oliver, something else milky and iced in front of Felicity. 

 

It’s quiet between them, both of them staring at their coffees, and then Oliver starts to chuckle. 

 

It’s contagious, and before she can stop herself, Felicity follows suit. She has no idea what they’re laughing at, and would guess that Oliver doesn’t either, but it feels like the only thing they can do. The entire situation is so absurd, so completely stilted and strange, that laughing about it seems like the only option. That, and there is something almost melodic about the way it sounds coming from Oliver, something that makes her think he didn’t expect it. 

 

“So, are we supposed to check now?” Felicity takes a sip of the drink in front of her, pleasantly surprised that they got her order right. 

 

“Hmm?”

 

“The expiration date,” She taps the device on the table beside her bag. “This is my first match with the system so I don’t really know the standard operating procedure here, but I guess we’re supposed to check that?” Felicity closes the ramble, uncomfortable with not knowing exactly how all of this works. 

 

Oliver gives that soft smile again. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

 

“You’re kidding,” she scoffs, sitting back in exaggerated disbelief. “You’re telling me that Oliver Queen doesn’t even know how the system his own family created works?”

 

“I, uh, I’ve been a bit out of the loop these past years,” He averts his eyes, obviously more than a little uncomfortable. 

 

“Right right- god, yeah. What with the being dead for five years you probably didn’t have a lot of opportunities to figure all of this out, except now you’re not dead and you’re here and-” Oliver’s shoulders tense but he reaches across the table gracefully, laying a hand across hers and effectively ending her ramble. Felicity can feel her skin flushing, did she really just mention his not-death over coffee?

 

“Yeah, you did,” he says with a chuckle, and she wants to disappear, she really does, except the look he’s giving her isn’t malicious or even terribly uncomfortable; it’s gentle and curious. Affectionate, even.

 

“On that note, let’s see how much longer you’ll have to deal with this for,” she slides her device over to sit in front of her, only mourning the loss of his touch a little.

 

It takes a few seconds, but she navigates them both to the information page to find their expiration date. Tapping it at the same time, Felicity holds her breath for the half second it takes for the screen to load. 

 

_ 12 HOURS.  _

 

“Oh.”

 

“That’s kind of short, isn’t it?” 

 

The screen changes again, shifting to a countdown format. 

 

_ 11 HOURS, 59 MINUTES _

 

“I didn’t realize it would count down like that,” Felicity turns the device over in her hands, not sure of what she’s even looking for. “That’s pretty ominous.”

 

//

 

“So is this really all new to you? You’ve never done any of it before?” 

 

They’ve left the cafe, falling into step with one another along the sidewalk that winds through towns on the walk back to place the system provides them to stay overnight in; it’s not a long walk, but they take their time. Ex-golden-boy-slash-castaway Oliver Queen is much better company than Felicity had expected. He’s guarded and rough around the edges, but he’s good at hiding it. The charm he exudes is practiced and careful; Felicity doesn’t know what he’s hiding, but she’s surprised to find that a part of her wants to find out. 

 

There’s something underneath that carefully crafted exterior, something vulnerable and maybe scared. He works hard to conceal it, but it shows through in small actions; the way he’s constantly surveying his surroundings, flinching a little every time someone walks too close to him, the curious look he gives her every time she makes him laugh. Felicity wonders when was the last time someone paid enough attention to notice any of it. 

 

She’s never been one to get stuck on these pretty boy millionaire types, but there is something about Oliver that is so much more genuine than she expected. It’s a bizarre thought to have just a few hours after meeting him, but Felicity knows she could trust him if she wanted to. 

 

“No,” his reply pulls her back out of her mind, back to the easy conversation at hand. “Before everything that happened, the System was still in its beginning stages and I was never really interested in it.” He’s good at avoiding talking about his disappearance, despite the fact that he knows Felicity already knows plenty about it. It was a news frenzy in Starling City when the Queen’s Gambit went down; the CEO of one of the most prominent companies in the country doesn’t just get shipwrecked with his son without the media taking a fierce hold of the story.

 

“It took me a while to get back into the swing of things once I got back,” he continues, doing a terrible job of forcing nonchalance into his tone. “I’m still adjusting.”

 

Felicity takes the opportunity to lighten the mood again, bumping her shoulder into his as they walk and making him chuckle. “You seem pretty well adjusted to me.”

 

When they reach the place, both of their devices make a  _ ping _ noise. It’s nicer than Felicity expected, an entire flat for just the two of them. There’s only one bedroom and they both notice it at the same time, staring each other down for several seconds until one of them cracks. 

 

Oliver offers to take the sofa, which is actually more of a loveseat and definitely way too tiny for a man of his size. It’s a hilarious thought, really, and Felicity almost wants to go along with him for just long enough to see him try to fit his broad frame onto the tiny couch. 

 

“The bed’s big enough for both of us,” she rolls her eyes when he opens his mouth to object. It’s gentlemanly, sure, but it’s also a little annoying. “Come on, we’re grown ups.”

 

Once he’s actually lying beside her, though, Felicity finds it difficult to sleep. She keeps catching herself glancing over at him, at the bit of skin peeking out where his sleep shirt is riding up above the waistband of his sweatpants. She can just barely make out the end of some sort of long scar there, and she has to resist the urge to reach out and touch it. For the first time since she heard the news that he wasn’t dead, that he’d washed up on some strange island, Felicity wonders what he must’ve encountered in the years he was gone. Certainly, it couldn’t have been pleasant. 

 

“It wasn’t exactly a vacation,” Oliver says from beside her, turning his head to look at her. 

 

“I did it again,” she groans, frustrated with her own lack of filter. One of these days, she’ll learn to keep her mouth in check. 

 

“It’s okay,” he says softly, the lilt of a laugh coming through in his voice despite the way his muscles tense to show his discomfort at the conversation topic. “A lot of people wonder. They all have questions. It’s kind of nice for someone to just come out and say it instead of dancing around it.”

 

Felicity hums, feeling awkward and unsure of what comes next. She’s no expert on first dates, but grilling a stranger about their days as a castaway is probably not on the list of things she should be doing.

 

“It was really bad,” Oliver says after a few long moments of silence and Felicity isn’t sure why he’s trusting her with this. He’s staring at the ceiling, keeping his gaze anywhere but on her. “There were a lot of years where nothing good happened.” He rubs his thumb and forefinger together, a nervous habit she’s already picked up on, and Felicity closes her eyes against the intense vulnerability in the air. It’s the least she can offer him; the privacy of, for once, not being watched or pried for information. 

 

Felicity’s hand covers his, her tiny fingers wrapping around his calloused palm and squeezing. Something like affection blooms in her chest, big and warm and sudden. “You made it back home, though,” she whispers, finding the words are a lot harder to get out than she anticipated. “That must’ve taken a lot of strength.”

 

“Yeah, something like that,” he matches her hushed tone after several beats, voice sounding strangled and dripping with disbelief. There is a story here, and Felicity senses it’s a lot more than either of them are ready to handle sharing tonight. Still, her blossoming affection for the man beside her weighs heavy, shifting into something more intense. Something that she doesn’t want to give a name to. 

 

They’ll part ways in the morning, this whole brief encounter nothing more than fodder for the system to eventually lead them to the people they’re meant to spend the rest of their lives with. This night, this moment of incredible vulnerability, all of the connection she feels to Oliver, it means nothing in the grand scheme of things. 

 

Algorithm or no, it could’ve fooled her.


	2. lonely life without you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took longer than it should've. in my defense, i did post the first chapter immediately before the craziest week of my life and it's also almost finals season for me, so we're all just lucky i'm still breathing. 
> 
> shoutout to elle, ari, jess, moni, and jay for their continued support in me and this mess of a story. those girls are so dear to my heart. 
> 
> if any of this fails to make sense, feel free to come scream at me on twitter or tumblr and i'll do my best to explain.

A shrill beeping in the kitchen rouses Felicity from her accidental nap. It’s quiet in the flat she’s staying in, the television volume turned down to a low drone that’s just enough to offer some kind of background noise to fill the space without stealing her attention. Afternoon sun peeks in through the windows in that impossibly perfect way that warms the room and reminds Felicity that she isn’t home. 

 

The coffee maker in the kitchen continues to wail and she groans, shifting in her place on the couch. Her tablet is still propped up on her lap, the screen having long since locked after going ignored. A dull ache blossoms in the back of her skull and Felicity isn’t sure if it’s leftover from the night before or a reminder of the uncomfortable position she fell asleep in. 

 

Her short night with Oliver seemed to set a pattern: Felicity’s next handful of encounters courtesy of the system are just as short as the first, but hardly as remarkable. All of them are good people; they are kind and plenty interesting, but the system passes her from person to person and their time together hardly feels personal.

 

Every muscle in her body aches as she sits up and stretches. Exhaustion weighs heavy on her body, her mind. She’s been at the mercy of the system for some time now, and something she hadn’t anticipated was the toll it would take on her to watch so many people come in and out of her life, even in short amounts of time. 

 

These people, she’s met them in different places, all different mediums that the system has chosen for them. Some are in the same coffee shop where she met Oliver, others are at restaurants or bookstores or other places around the town. There was a brunette who wore a pair of square-framed glasses perched on the end of her nose and had a tendency to ramble a lot when she spoke. She and Felicity had a lot in common, right down to their nearly identical interests in coding and computer science. The night they spent together was easy and comfortable; they got a little too tipsy and the girl kissed with the reckless abandon of someone who is not unfamiliar with this pattern. 

 

After her was a man with kind eyes and a sadness about him that Felicity didn’t have time to dwell on. Their time together had been full of hesitant touches and very little conversation. He has a history, has perhaps been passed around by the system for too long to have an interest in opening up to anyone anymore. Felicity brushed it off as easily as she could, comforted by the countdown marking the passing minutes until their time together came to an end. 

 

Later, there was a blonde woman who smiled all night long but refused to talk about the person she was paired with last. She had rough hands and the brightest blue eyes Felicity had ever seen. In the morning after, Felicity pretended not to see her sneak out of bed hours before their timer has run out. Something about her was almost ghost-like, and after all is said and done, Felicity is left wondering if she was ever really there. 

 

Months in, and she still has very little idea how this system actually works. Outside of pairing her with increasingly random individuals for minuscule amounts of time, there has been no development, nothing that would lead her to believe that there is any rhyme or reason to all of this. Again and again, she’s reassured that the data is being recorded and all of it will lead somewhere in the end, but all of the automated, standard responses ring hollow after a while. 

 

She isn’t sure what she expected when she signed on to this whole thing, but this isn’t it. There is a special kind of uncertainty that comes with participating in this system, and the entire community around her revolves around it. Making plans is always a tentative act, and they nearly always fall through because someone was paired for the night. Felicity does her best to find some kind of routine in the small pool of activities the community provides; she takes up jogging for a short while, tennis after that. More than anything, the activities only remind her how lonely life in the system is. Every day is spent waiting for another match, another person to share her bed for a while. 

 

She’s never been that girl, the kind that defines her life by the person she’s spending it with. Somehow, the system has done its best to bend her into that shape. And it works better than she’d like to admit, but still only to an extent. Despite being in the middle of a landscape designed to be more vacation than real life, Felicity’s work quickly reaffirms itself as the thing her life revolves around, much like it was before she joined the system. Working for the Queen’s company has always been a slightly frustrating job; Felicity works with technology and coding, so generally, her job is to keep track of the algorithm the system uses. The information has always been split into pieces between herself and a handful of other experts at the company, the developers have always been particular about maintaining mystery as far as how the system sorts people together. Being in the middle of it all, Felicity only finds more questions in the bits of coding she’s given to work on. 

 

She’s never been one to back down from a challenge, though. It keeps her busy. 

 

Sounds of movement drift in from a room down the hall, a bustling about that’s become strangely familiar in the past weeks. 

 

“Felicity, honey?” A voice calls, the pet name not exactly settling the right way between them but not bothering her enough to warrant doing anything about it. 

 

“Yeah?” She answers back, tending to her coffee and feeling more alert after simply going through the motions to prepare it. Sharing her life with someone for more than a handful of hours is taking some adjusting to, but she’s working on it. 

 

After her life had become a seemingly endless cycle of working alone at home for a few days and then spending the night with another stranger, only to go home in the morning or at the end of the weekend and start over, the first time she saw a number on the timer that’s more than a few hours, Felicity had nearly spooked and run right out the door. 

  
A now-familiar figure appears in the doorway to the kitchen, dressed nicely in slacks and a maroon button down and looking at her expectantly. 

 

“You aren’t dressed?” He asks lightheartedly, and Felicity’s momentary confusion is quickly overcome by the memory of plans they’d made to attend a community function. The man in front of her lets out a soft laugh and Felicity is sure her expression gives away that she’d forgotten. 

 

His name is Ray. His eyes are kind, he loves to laugh at his own jokes, and he’s almost as smart as she is. When they checked the expiration date, they were both surprised when the familiar automated voice announced that they’ve been paired to spend just over six months together.

 

Ray is a good man. He’s the kind of friendly that is comfortable to be around, the kind of slightly off-kilter that ensures things stay interesting when he’s around. 

 

Every now and then, he talks about a girl he was paired with before her, someone named Anna. He only brings her up when it gets late or they’ve split a bottle of wine, but he talks about with a kind of reverence that leaves Felicity’s chest feeling hollow. Still, she never stops him. He cuts himself off whenever he gets too close to giving up too many details, and always apologizes for it in the morning.

 

She laughs easily, dismissing Ray and assuring him that she'll be ready to go soon. 

 

It’s at this community-wide party, with Ray and his easy charm on her arm, that she runs into Oliver again.  
  


It would be a lot easier to be content with Ray if this could stop happening. She’s seen Oliver around town in the past months, always on a jog or walking out of the gym. Occasionally she would see him with someone, but more often than not he was alone.  
  


Someone is always throwing a party here, there is always an excuse to gather, and it’s the kind of atmosphere that Ray thrives in. In their first two months together, this is the third event they have attended together. Felicity has already fallen into a routine with them, snatching a glass of wine from the open bar and wandering the crowd while Ray mingles. She gets corralled into the middle of the crowd after a while; some grinning couple is in the middle of the room, boasting loudly about their experience with the system. 

 

Tonight, everyone is gathered around an eerily familiar-looking couple loudly telling the story of how they met. This is the kind of thing that always happens at these parties; it puts Felicity on edge, all the impossibly wide smiles and glossy love stories. Still, everyone else seems to love it. 

 

“On the day of my final pairing, every doubt I had was erased,” the man says with an uncomfortable amount of enthusiasm, holding out his hand to the woman beaming behind him. She takes it, stepping up beside him to take his arm. They look like a wedding cake topper, standing together with everyone’s eyes on them. 

 

“You think they’re hoping for a spot on a commercial?” A familiar voice comes from behind Felicity, quiet and close to her ear. The glass of red in her hand nearly goes flying with her startled response, spinning her body around to face the voice. 

 

It’s hard to hide the smile that breaks out on her face when she sees him, but she makes a valiant effort. 

 

“Oliver Queen,” she says, slightly exasperated. They hardly know each other, but seeing him feels like a breath of fresh air. 

 

She doesn’t know why her mind always circles back to him, couldn’t explain it if she tried. It would be easy to think that she’s attached herself to him because he was the first person he met here, but when she’s being honest with herself, Felicity knows there’s more to it than that. 

 

“Felicity Smoak,” he says coyly, drawing her name out and making it sound important, and maybe she likes the way it sounds in his mouth a little too much. 

 

She steps away from the greater concentration of the crowd and Oliver follows easily, falling into step with her like it hasn’t been months since the last time they spoke. Like they didn’t part ways barely 12 hours after saying hello. 

 

“It’s nice to see you again, even though you scared the shit out of me,” she says when they’re on the outskirts of the crowd, out of the way of the groups of people milling about. “I almost spilled this wine all over that incredibly nice suit.”

 

Her free hand finds its way up to toy with the lapel of his jacket when he chuckles, shaking his head lightly. If she didn’t know better, Felicity would think there was something like fondness in his expression. 

 

“It’s not that nice a suit,” he says, a lazy tease. 

 

Felicity rolls her eyes, his quiet playfulness contagious. “It’s a nice wine, though.” She brings the glass to her lips, taking a slow sip and watching him roll his eyes. “It’d be a shame to see you wearing it. Red isn't really your color.”

 

The laugh it draws out of Oliver seems to surprise him as much as it does her. Felicity wonders if he’s as caught off guard by the ease of the conversation as she is; it’s not that the same ease is never present with anyone else, but there’s something about talking to Oliver that feels more organic than anything that’s happened in the months she’s spent with Ray. 

 

“Are you here with someone?” Oliver asks after a sip from his own glass and the words are only a little stilted. Felicity pulls her focus back to the present moment, abruptly reminded of her surroundings. She does a quick scan of the room, easily finding Ray standing several yards away, surrounded by a small crowd people. He’s speaking animatedly about something, the biggest grin plastered across his face. These settings are where he is at his prime, casually charming everyone in the room with his enthusiasm for the things he’s passionate about. 

 

Felicity points to him, waiting for Oliver’s gaze to follow. “See that guy? The one working the crowd like some kind of charm school wizard?”

 

Oliver hums, nodding as Felicity drops her hand. She thinks she sees his eyes darken a shade when his eyes land on her again but he recovers quickly, his smile more strained than it was moments before. Oliver asks how long the system paired she and Ray together for and he’s so bad at feigning nonchalance, he really is, but Felicity doesn’t comment on it. 

 

It feels absurd to imagine that Oliver Queen could be jealous, but the thought gives her some kind of thrill that she can’t explain. It’s useless; the system isn’t known for pairing people together more than once, and she’s already had her night with Oliver. No matter what feelings he might stir up in her, their moment passed and he knows as well as she does that they will likely never be given a proper chance. 

 

It’s difficult for Felicity to put her trust in a system that erases her choice like this. She may not be willing to admit who she would rather be going home with, but knowing that her desires mean nothing to the unfeeling algorithm assigning her to different partners has her chest tightening. 

 

Still, this is what she signed up for. Though this stifling feeling hadn’t been anything she’d considered when she walked into this situation, she still feels an obligation to see it through. 

 

“I know you didn’t show up here solo,” Felicity bumps Oliver with her elbow, refocusing on their conversation. “What poor soul have you gotten paired with?”

 

Oliver gestures across the room to a stunning brunette in a white blouse. She’s smiling brightly at whoever she’s talking to, and she’s gorgeous. Felicity nearly chokes on the wine she’s trying to swallow. 

 

“Her? The tall, leggy model one?” The words trip out of her mouth before she can think better of them and the corner of Oliver’s mouth quirks up again. He nods his head. 

 

“She’s sweet,” Oliver says, his tone low and clipped. He doesn’t seem willing to say much more, but never one to take a social cue, Felicity soldiers on past the new tense air between them. 

 

“It’s strange, the people you get paired with in this system,” she says, searching for some way to fill the silence and blurting out whatever errant thought pops into her head. 

 

Oliver turns his gaze back to her and watches her expectantly, waiting silently for her to finish her thought.

 

“Not you specifically, obviously,” she backpedals, fighting the urge to wince at herself. “Just, everyone in general, I guess. It seems so random, so pointless.” Oliver is still looking at her curiously, and Felicity lets out a breath to give herself a second to gather her rambling thoughts. 

 

“I guess I just don’t really see where all this is going, how they’re supposed to get it right.” She locks her gaze on a brick wall across the street and lets her body feel the weight of frustrations she hadn’t fully realized she felt. 

 

Oliver’s hand on her waist pulls her back to her body, his warm palm flat against the small expanse of skin where her skirt and top don’t quite meet up. Felicity bites her cheek against the shiver that threatens her entire body. 

 

He leans in impossibly close, until his breath is on her jaw and she can practically hear the gears turning in his head. She reacts thoughtlessly, her body turning to angle herself against his chest acting on instinct before she can think better of it. 

 

His voice is barely more than a low growl when he speaks, the feeling of his chest rumbling against her shoulder more intimate than should be possible when they’re in the middle of a party, surrounded by dozens of people. 

 

“I think the system got one pairing right.”

 

Later that night, when she’s back home with Ray, when her clothes have been tossed over the back of a chair and they’re tangled in the bedsheets, Felicity tries to force her mind to stop wandering. Ray is hovering over her, hips moving against hers, and his eyes are closed. He’s here, his body reacting to hers and moving in tandem, but Felicity knows his mind is with someone else. 

 

So she lets her mind wander where it will. When she closes her eyes, the man nestled between her hips is someone else entirely. 

* * *

 

 

Things with Ray end peacefully. Their timer ticks to an end and Felicity can’t bring herself to be upset about it. It’s strange knowing her routine will have to change now, even stranger knowing she has to go back to living alone after spending six months sharing a living space. She has never felt particularly passionately about Ray, but he was never a bad roommate; they worked well around one another and if she mourns anything about the relationship coming to its end, Felicity mourns the loss of having another person in the same room that shared her interests and field of work. Ray is good company to keep, and she does miss him. 

 

Their last morning together, they struggle together to make a mostly-burnt breakfast and share it at the kitchen table. The whole exchange is a bit awkward and a little bittersweet, but they’ve both had plenty of time to prepare. There are few surprises with the system, and Felicity has come to find some comfort in that. She has never had to worry with the uncertainty of whether or not Ray will stick around because she has known from the beginning exactly how long he will be in her life; it’s a small blessing, one that she does not take for granted. 

 

When it’s time for them to leave, Ray wraps Felicity in a tight hug and she doesn’t pull away from it. She has never been uncomfortable around him and their last moments together are no different; his arms around her have never felt  _ wrong _ , even if they never necessarily felt  _ right _ either. 

 

They part with mirrored smiles that are easy, if a little sad, and Felicity is almost relieved when she makes it back to her empty apartment. 

 

The system has mercy on her, giving her an entire two weeks of quiet before the device she was given at the beginning of all of this makes the familiar pinging noise to let her know she’s been matched with someone else. The device buzzes on her kitchen table for several minutes before Felicity can be bothered to check it, hardly eager to fall back into her pattern of one night stands and even less excited to fall into another long-term relationship with someone she doesn’t know so soon after getting back to her independent routine. 

 

It crosses her mind that maybe the system wasn’t built for people like her, maybe at the end of the day, she’s happiest alone with her work. 

 

None of that really matters, though, because she’s here now and she’s invested too much of her time in this ridiculous program to back out. Looking up the details for the meeting, Felicity makes a mental note of the restaurant she’s expected to be at in the next few hours and sets about getting herself ready for another night out with someone new. Absentmindedly, she hopes it’s someone easy to deal with.

 

What she doesn’t expect when she walks through the double doors to one of the nicest restaurants the community offers is to see Oliver Queen seated alone and waiting at a table near the middle of the floor. Confused, she taps the device in her hand. 

 

“Are you sure this is right? I didn’t think the system was supposed to repeat.”

 

The device buzzes in response, automated voice confirming that she was in the right place and that Oliver was the correct match. “ _ The system uses each match to record data which will lead to your final pairing _ .”

 

Around that time, Oliver looks up from the table and sees her hovering at the door. The smile that breaks onto his face is nothing short of blinding. 


	3. in dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, this got thrown on the backburner for a while. life happens. but she's ready now!! i really can't tell you how happy i am to finally have this finished, and so thank you to everyone who has seen me through it.

The door swings shut behind her and hinges closed on  _ click. _ The sound of it snaps Felicity back to the present moment, a reminder that she needs move from where she’s standing. A waiter walks past her carrying a tray of plates and, for just a moment as she pauses, she expects the whole thing to be a fluke, a daydream. In that second, it wouldn’t surprise her if Oliver were to disappear the second he leaves her sight like something out of a movie. But then, the moment passes. The waiter carries on and when Felicity looks past them, Oliver is still standing on the other side. 

 

He stands to meet her when she makes it over to the table. There is some kind of unbridled joy in his eyes that she knows he’s trying to hold back, but it lights up the room despite his efforts. It’s a good look on him, a really good look. One that Felicity thinks, in passing and without any real reasoning, she’d like to see as often as possible. She acts on a whim, letting her body move on instinct before she can overthink it and pulls him in for an embrace. Oliver responds in kind, too easily for any of this to be real. His broad frame envelopes her, arms coming to rest snugly around her waist. The comfort his presence always brings her is only amplified by the proximity; there is a safety in his embrace that hardly surprises Felicity, but is pleasant nonetheless. 

 

The hug only lasts a short moment before the din of the restaurant makes its way into their bubble and, too quickly, they’re reminded that they’re in a public place.

 

“Are you here for-?” Felicity puts enough space between them to look him in his eyes, to motion between the two of them in asking, but not so much space that it causes Oliver’s hands to fall from her waist. His grip loosens fractionally but his palms are still warm against her hips and Felicity makes a conscious effort of fighting the urge to lean into his touch.

 

“For you, I hope,” Oliver says, finishing her sentence for her in a quiet voice, and Felicity stops for just a moment to notice how smoothly he’s picked up that habit. The small smile he’s wearing now is a nervous thing, nothing particularly impressive, but on him it’s so blindingly beautiful.

 

As if on queue, the device in her bag sounds off at the same time as the one in his coat pocket- the familiar  _ ding _ that lets them know they’ve found the person they were meant to. 

 

Be it in a long-term, grand-scheme-of-things scale or just for the night, Felicity’s breath catches at the idea of Oliver being the one she’s meant to find; these repeats aren’t supposed to happen, they’ve already used up their allotted time together, but she isn’t going to start asking questions now. 

 

And that’s the thing, isn’t it? This could be another blip on her radar in the system, a tiny glitch waiting to be made right, another too-short night that will ultimately amount to absolutely nothing, but something in Felicity practically aches with how  _ right _ it feels to be with him. 

 

Oliver matches her careful exhale with his own at the assurance that they have at least one more night to spend together. He holds her in front of him for a short moment, watching her with something in his eyes that Felicity can’t quite figure out. Something warm and affectionate and curious. It feels familiar in a way that she can’t put her finger on and so Felicity lets him keep her there, his hands steady against her hips, until he lets out a low laugh drenched in something akin to disbelief. 

 

And then his hands aren’t on her anymore. Within seconds, they fall back into their easy repertoire of conversation. 

 

They catch up on each other’s lives: Felicity tells him about Ray and how things came to an end with that relationship, about her work and her few failed endeavors into the community activities in an attempt to keep herself busy. Oliver tells her about his last pairing, a woman named Samantha, and they laugh at a few horror stories from his less successful couplings. Being a Queen in the system, as it turns out, is more drama than he had bargained for.

 

“Suffice to say,” he says on the end of a laugh after telling her about a particularly interesting encounter the system provided him with, “I was very happy to see you walk in the door. I think I would always be happy to see you, though.”

 

Felicity blushes, not expecting the sincerity in his expression when she looks up. 

 

Sitting across from him, watching him watch her with  _ that look _ on his face- the one that’s full of far too much fondness and emotion for their brief exchanges- Felicity finds it hard to deny to herself that all of this- that Oliver- feels  _ right.  _

 

After a while, he reaches for his device in his pocket and Felicity’s hand moves faster than her mind does, landing on his arm and stilling his motion. 

 

“Let’s not check it,” she says simply, not aware until that very moment how badly she doesn’t want to know how much time she has left with him this time. Whatever has happened in the system that matched them for a second time, whatever glitch that’s made this happen, she doesn’t want to test it. Oliver gives her a confused look. 

 

“I don’t want to know this time,” she says softly, biting her tongue against another piece of the truth: that she doesn’t want to know if this is only for tonight. “Let’s just…” Sucking in a breath, Felicity gathers her thoughts. More than anything, she doesn’t want her time with Oliver to fall into the same mindless routine she’s been going through the motions with for months now. “We can let it play out this time. I’m tired of all this counting down.”

 

The look he gives her is almost awestruck, something soft and admiring. It sends her stomach into knots, makes her feel like squirming in her seat. Everything he does is so intense and there’s nothing casual or easy to swallow about the way he’s looking at her. 

 

“Yeah,” he says quietly, a whisper falling out of his mouth as he keeps watching her. He blinks after a moment and snaps himself out of whatever thought process he was stuck in. “Yeah. Let’s just enjoy this.”

 

She smiles through the breath of relief as her chest loosens. She hadn’t realized it had gotten so tight. 

 

“You’re different, Felicity,” Oliver says, suddenly entirely sobered. “Remarkable.”

 

A warm blush creeps up to her cheeks and Felicity ducks her head to hide it. 

  
“Thank you for remarking on it.”

 

* * *

  
  


They make it back to their assigned flat with Felicity somewhere on the drunk side of tipsy. Oliver, despite having matched her drink for drink, is unsurprisingly far steadier on his feet. He unlocks the door with deft hands and Felicity collapses onto the couch as soon as they make it inside. Seconds later, Oliver drops down beside her with too much grace for such a simple action. 

 

“How do you do that?” Felicity hears herself asking almost as soon as the thought pops into her mind. Alcohol doesn’t do much to help her lack of filter. Oliver offers up a curious look and Felicity rolls her eyes playfully.  

 

“You know,  _ that _ ,” she motions to Oliver as a whole; the way he’s perched on the cushions just so, the way he makes sitting on a couch look so purposeful. “Your body, the way it moves.”

 

Oliver raises his eyebrows and presses his lips together against a smile. Felicity drops her head against the couch cushion and groans. 

 

“Oh my god, not like  _ that _ .” Bringing one hand up to press her middle finger between her furrowed brows, Felicity wills her wine-hazed mind to center its thoughts. There’s no point in trying to hide the flush that makes its way up her neck, but she’ll happily pass the blame along to the alcohol in her system. It doesn’t help when she looks up and finds Oliver’s eyes on her, his gaze full of something darker than the fond curiosity she’s used to seeing there. 

 

It’s then that she’s made aware of just how close their bodies are. One errant move and her skin could be pressed to his, just like that. 

 

“Like what?” Oliver’s eyes twinkle dangerously and he shifts closer to her, turning his body to face her more fully. “What  _ exactly _ do you like about the way my body moves?”

 

Leaning closer until he’s nearly towering over, Oliver lets his gaze drop to her mouth before it moves back up to her eyes. He’s playing chicken with her and she knows it, he’s waiting to see how close she’ll let him get before tapping out. 

 

What he doesn’t know is that Felicity Smoak is nothing if not competitive, and she’ll be damned if she lets him catch her backing down from a challenge this quickly. 

 

Oliver stills in front of her, waiting for her next move and before she can think better of it, Felicity takes his pause as the opportunity to take the upper hand in this situation for herself. Emboldened by the wine and his proximity, she tilts her jaw forward just enough to close the distance between them, but only barely. Her lips brush against his carefully, so lightly that it might have been a shared daydream, some grand delusion that’s left her feeling like every nerve ending on her body is exposed. Idly, she wonders if Oliver is as affected by it as she is. The way he goes completely still gives her an idea. 

 

Something about the idea of being able to get a reaction like this out of Oliver Queen sends a slow shiver down her back. 

 

Oliver holds his breath and waits for her next move, because of course he does. He opens his eyes lazily and Felicity sees the question in them, the opportunity he’s offering her to back out. His quiet asking for reassurance. 

 

Felicity takes the opportunity as it’s offered to her, moving again to kiss him properly. His mouth splits into a smile under hers, Oliver lets out a relieved breath and Felicity laughs against it. 

 

Oliver sheds his jacket and the two of them fall back against the couch. For all Oliver’s usual deliberate care to his movements, the whole ordeal is surprisingly graceless. Felicity takes her time with the buttons on his shirt, letting herself get distracted by his roaming mouth and the rhythmic path his hands are tracing across her back. 

 

It’s not that she’s surprised to find scars when she finally pushes past his shirt, it’s more that she hadn’t expected the severity of it all. His name slips out of her mouth before she can try to stifle her reaction; anything less than honesty feels wrong when it comes to him. 

 

“Felicity,” he breathes, eyes closed. His voice is low but she still picks up on the shame lurking there, the dread hiding in the way he says her name as if this is something could possibly scare her away. Her chest tugs at the notion. 

 

For once in her life, Felicity can’t quite find her words. 

 

So she trusts her actions to carry what she’s trying to communicate. She shifts around on the couch until she can sit up comfortably, still straddling his hips. Leaving her heels on for this long was a bad decision, but not one that she cares enough to rectify immediately. With a careful precision, she picks apart the few buttons of his shirt that are still done up. Oliver’s breathing stutters under her hands, but she stays steady. When she pushes the fabric to either side and looks up, he’s watching her with that same disbelief from earlier in the night. 

 

Felicity wonders when was the last time someone showed him this much tenderness or care. 

 

Her fingers trip over the raised scars littered across on his chest, more of his skin marred than not. The angry marks paint a hazy picture of what he must have experienced during those years he lost and from what Felicity can see, it’s not a pretty one. 

 

Oliver’s hand slips into her field of vision and comes to rest over hers, holding her fingers flush against a puckered scar on his ribcage. The mark is shadowed by faded black ink, whatever tattoo that was originally there has been mangled by the wound that caused the scar. His chest rises and falls under their hands, expanding with every careful breath he takes. She can’t feel it from here but knows somehow that his heartbeat is quick and frantic, knows by the way his skin is flushed and warm everywhere she has touched him. 

 

“They don’t hurt,” he says in a low voice, bright blue eyes locked on her. “Not anymore.” 

 

Felicity turns her hand over underneath his to link their fingers together. Before she can overthink it, she drops her head until she’s nearly level with his chest and presses a kiss to the back of his hand. Maybe she lingers for longer than she should, soaks in the way his breathing stutters when her hair falls to his chest. 

 

He makes no efforts to hide how affected he is by her, a flustered mess underneath her. The sight of it stirs something low in her belly that blooms up into her chest, warm and overwhelming and waiting to swallow her whole. The irrational thing is that she wants to let it. 

 

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that girls love scars?” She says after a long moment, breaking some of the tension in the room. 

 

Oliver laughs lowly, Felicity bites her lip against a smile and lets go of his hand. His face falls at the absence of contact but she gives him a playful look and pulls the sleeve of her dress down. Oliver’s eyes widen and he looks so young in that moment. 

 

“A couple years ago, I was out for drinks with a few of my friends,” she says, urged on by the confused look Oliver gives her. “We ended up in this tattoo shop,” he catches on to where the story is going and his eyes light up. Rolling her eyes at the both of them, Felicity continues on. “I don’t have any real scars, not unless you count the ones from when I had my wisdom teeth removed, but we’ve all got bad tattoos.” 

 

Oliver laughs then, a soft sound that sneaks out of him and lights up his whole face. For just a second, Felicity lets herself wonder if he’ll ever stop being surprised by his own happiness like that. The careless boy from the tabloids, the one from before the shipwreck, would have never thought twice about a passing joke or a pretty girl perched next to him. She won’t pretend that she knew him then, nor that she knows him very well now, but the man in front of her is a far cry from anything she knew of him before the system tied them together. 

 

She has to stop herself from wincing at the thought of what could’ve happened to him to force this shift, but allows herself a moment to mourn the boy in him that was stripped away. Maybe they’ll have time for her to learn more about his lost years, maybe they won’t. All she knows for sure is that no one deserves to go through whatever he has. 

 

Oliver clears his throat, bringing her back to the moment and away from her rapidly spiraling train of thought. Offering up a smile, Felicity pushes her sleeve down the rest of the way and turns so her back is facing him, tattoo and all. 

 

It’s a dolphin, crudely drawn and more faded than it should be after only a few years. A far cry from any of the marks on his body, but she cranes her neck to smile proudly at him over her shoulder and watching the tension bleed out of him, Felicity is proud of the regrettable marking for the first time. 

 

The laugh that bubbles up out of Oliver, louder and more free than any of the quiet chuckles she’s gotten out of him before, sends warmth blossoming somewhere in her chest, happy and free. 

 

She isn’t expecting his hand to come up to her shoulder a moment later, his warm palm on her bare skin sobering them both. If he notices the way she shivers at his touch, he doesn’t say anything about it. She feels his thumb brush over where the tattoo is, so achingly gentle. 

 

Seconds later, his lips are on her skin, pressed so lightly against that stupid dolphin, and Felicity has never been more grateful for its presence on her skin than when she feels his scruff scratch across her shoulder. She lets out a sharp breath she didn’t know she was holding. Oliver takes her reaction as his signal, something like a growl sneaking out of him as he kisses her shoulder soundly. 

 

“I like the dolphin,” he says, voice a low whisper in her ear as he moves to drop his mouth to her neck and if she whimpers just a little, well, no one would fault her for it. Itching to be able to do something, anything, Felicity reaches up for him and drags her nails through the hair at the nape of his neck. It draws another growl out of him and before she can think about it, she’s turning to face him. 

 

His breath falls heavy on her lips and they’re close, so incredibly close. 

 

“You’re remarkable, Felicity Smoak,” Oliver whispers the words carefully, breathlessly, and Felicity feels the weight and purpose behind each one. 

 

“You already said that, Queen,” she challenges with a surprising amount of confidence, keeping her voice low even though they’re the only two in the house. His hand moves up to cradle her jaw and she can sense his hesitance, all the restraint in his touch. 

 

Something that sounds a lot like her name tumbles out of his mouth and her mind is so fuzzy with the wine and the proximity to him that she doesn’t know which one of them moves first. The world around them fades out to a dull buzz of background noise and this is what it comes down to: his mouth is on hers, their push and pull easy in a way that feels practiced and familiar and  _ right _ . His hands are in motion, flat against the small of her back one moment and tangled in her hair the next. 

 

When Felicity pushes away from him to slide out of her dress, the look he gives her stalls her thought process. Oliver’s expression is so open, so incredibly vulnerable and full of something kind and adoring. She’s not ready to give a name to that look yet, but standing in front of her with his lips swollen and his hands out- waiting- he looks a lot like a man in love.

 

* * *

  
  


The days float by easily with Oliver. The first few were rushed and a little stilted, both of them tentative and waiting for the signal that their time together is over. Several times, Felicity second-guesses her decision to go without knowing, but the dread gradually subsides as they adjust to sharing a life together. Their schedules and habits fit together better than either of them could have imagined and once the initial urgency between them starts to fade, Felicity finds it easy to settle into life with Oliver. 

 

Oliver is the first to wake every morning, slipping out the door early enough to take his run around the neighborhood. By the time Felicity rolls out of bed, he’s either in the shower or flitting around the kitchen, making breakfast for the two of them. 

 

He tells her over pancakes one morning that he never enjoyed cooking until after he came home. “Five years on an island eating whatever you have to in order to survive gives you a real appreciation for food that actually tastes good,” he says lightly, the morning sun streaming in through the windows behind him in a way that makes him look like something out of a daydream. It’s heavy conversation to be thrown out over breakfast, but it doesn’t feel that way.

 

“You mean there were things to eat other than coconuts?” Felicity throws out playfully enough to draw a quiet laugh out of him, the sound floating around the kitchen and coloring the moment in a simple, joyous light that, months ago, she didn’t think either of them were capable of sharing.  

 

That’s just how it is with Oliver; they learn about one another in easy, comfortable ways. He shares bits of himself over breakfast, during commercial breaks of television shows, in the middle of quiet afternoons with a book propped in his lap. Felicity takes his lead, offering up pieces of herself in return. 

 

Still, not all of it is so breezy. 

 

There are days when Oliver sinks into himself, shrinking away from her touch and jumping at any sound that is too loud. The first time Felicity witnessed one of these low swings, she had slipped into the shower behind him, accidentally startling him and ending up with his hand around her throat for a split second before he came back to himself. It hadn’t been enough to even bruise, but he had refused to sleep near her for fear of a repeat incident. The next morning, she’d woken up to the smell of waffles and found him in the kitchen, looking pale and exhausted. 

 

“I wasn’t sure what the customary breakfast was for the morning after you try to strangle your girlfriend,” he’d said with a strained nonchalance and Felicity had slipped her arms around him, whispering over and over that she was safe, he hadn’t hurt her, anything he needed to hear. Over and over until the tension left his muscles. Still, he wore the guilt from that incident for days afterward. 

 

For Felicity, it’s her anxieties that eventually get the best of her. There are times they’ve crept in before; one minute she’s there with Oliver, having dinner or putting away groceries or tucked next to him in bed, and the next her chest is too tight and her mind is moving too fast for her to slow it down. The thought is always there, always lingering behind everything else: this could all be over at any given moment, and she has absolutely no control over it. 

 

No one really knows how the system decides a final match until it happens to them. Some distant part of her mind knows that the two of them could wake one day to find out that this is it, this is how they will spend the rest of their lives. She tries not to entertain the thought too long, it’s a silly hope. Logically, she knows it is more likely that one day their devices will make that same familiar  _ ping _ sound and they’ll be forced to walk away from one another. Because that’s how it works, that’s the agreement they made when they signed onto this whole thing. 

 

The system is the only reason she ever crossed paths with Oliver Queen, but it’s also an anvil hanging over her head and waiting to force him away from her. It is a precipice she’s bound to be pushed from only to land on her own again. 

 

She wakes in a panic one night some months into their time together, sweat-soaked and shaking. It was a calm day, virtually indistinguishable from most others. There is nothing to blame for her sudden panic except for her own fears, her mind’s way of twisting everything into the worst case scenario.

 

Careful not to wake Oliver, she slips out of bed as quietly as possible. Her chest is unbearably tight, weighed down by whatever nightmare her mind threw at her for the night.

 

The outside air offers some reprieve; the cool wind, bordering on cold, hits her body in a wave as she steps past the doors. In her thin pajamas, the cold gives her body enough of a shock to allow her to catch her breath. Her mind slows down, still racing through every possible awful outcome but not so fast anymore that she can’t keep up. 

 

The thing is, she could find out. She could  _ know _ . It would be so simple to put her mind at ease, to know exactly what to expect from this relationship and her time with Oliver. 

 

If it was her idea to ignore the countdown in the first place, is she really breaking any promise?

 

The device is dug out of a junk drawer and in her hands before she can negotiate herself out of it. It feels foreign in her palm after months of being ignored, but the screen lights up on command so brightly that it takes her a second to adjust.

 

“I need to know,” she says in a hushed voice. Oliver is a terribly light sleeper and despite having talked herself into it, this feels like something she needs to hide. This doubt, it’s something she should keep to herself. 

 

_ “How can I help you?” _ The monotone, automated voice is louder than she’d like. Felicity winces, fighting the irrational urge to shush the tech. 

 

“The expiration date,” she says quickly, anxiety creeping up on her again and causing her voice to shake. “For me and Oliver, I need to know how long we have left.”

 

It strikes her then that now could be the moment, the one she’s been dreading. They could have only hours left and the thought of facing that reality leaves her with an ache in her chest. 

 

The image on the screen in her hand changes and the flash of it catches her attention, giving her the far too familiar screen. 

 

_ TAP TO REVEAL: both parties must tap at the same time.  _

 

More than hating the thought of finding out that the two of them will be walking out of the door in the morning, away from each other for good, Felicity bends under the weight of spending the next weeks or months waiting for the moment it all ends. Falling asleep every night wondering if she’ll be alone the next, the voice in her head that surfaces every time they make plans to remind her that this might not last, that it could all be over at any given moment. 

 

Dread takes a turn back to panic, sneaking up her spine and making Felicity wish she was anywhere other than in her own body. 

 

“Fuck it.” Her age-old abandonment issues, the fear of being left behind for something better, of not knowing what’s coming, it wins out. She waits barely a short moment and the numbers are there, glowing and plain:

 

_ 5 YEARS.  _

 

Relief knocks the breath out of her, kicks a gasp out of her throat that she doesn’t have the time or will to stifle. Looking back towards the bedroom, she lets the tension fall from her body. The house is dark and she can’t make out anything in the shadows of the room, but the knowledge that Oliver is there, that he will be every day for the immediate future, it calms her nerves. Five years may not be a lifetime, he may not be her ultimate match, but she knows now. Knows what to prepare for, knows she can stop wondering if every day they have together is the last. 

 

There in the dark kitchen, something like peace overcomes her. 

 

It doesn’t last long. 

 

The device, still gripped in her palm, vibrates violently and pulls Felicity’s attention away from her own thoughts. A pinwheel spins on the screen and she waits again for her vision to adjust to the brightness. 

 

_ Recalibrating… _

 

_ 3 YEARS _

 

Her panic returns in force, turning her stomach and catching her breath in her throat. 

 

“No,” she chokes out, nearly a shout despite the strain on her voice. 

 

_ Recalibrating… _

 

_ 18 MONTHS _

 

“No, no, no, _ no. _ ” She’s going to wake Oliver, that much is inevitable. “What’s happening?” She shakes the device desperately, willing it to stop and no longer caring about how loud she’s being. 

 

_ Everything happens for a reason. _

 

“That’s bullshit,” she spits, some amount of anger flaring in her chest, fighting past the devastation. 

 

_ Everything happens for a reason. _

 

The device slips out of her shaking hands and clatters onto the counter. Unable to look away, she watches the cycle continue on a loop, the number smaller every time. Six months, three months, twenty days, five days. 

 

_ One-sided observation has destabilized expiration date. Re-calibration complete.  _

 

_ 20 HOURS. _

 

_... _

 

_ 19 HOURS, 59 MINUTES, 59 SECONDS. _

  
  
  


Days pass in a blur after Felicity is forced to part ways with Oliver. She focuses on her work again, throws herself into it with a vigor unrivaled by any of her past determination. The system blows her through a handful of matches, all of the encounters short and none of them hold her interest. 

 

She’s in the living room of her apartment, working on a tricky piece of coding she’s been sent, when her device buzzes on the coffee table. It vibrates once, twice, three times before Felicity shoves her laptop to the side to give it her attention.    
  
_ “What? _ ” She snaps, long exhausted with this whole process. She’s come so close to calling it quits in the past week, abandoning the whole thing and leaving without ever looking back. 

 

_ Your ultimate match has been chosen. _

 

Felicity freezes. “Ultimate as in, the last one? As in,  _ the one _ ?”

 

_ That is correct. Tomorrow you will be paired with your ultimate match and together you will leave this place forever.  _

 

Felicity’s head spins, mind racing through every possible person she could be paired with and suddenly hating the suspense of this whole system. “Can you tell me anything about them?” She questions, “Do I know them?”

 

_ Negative. _

 

Her heart sinks, stomach turning at the idea of being pushed together with yet another person she’s never met. Soulmate or not, the idea has lost its appeal to her. 

 

 _There is one more thing: before your pairing day, there is an amount of time set aside for a farewell period with the individual of your choosing._ _Data shows this helps to provide personal closure for users of The System._

 

Leaning closer to where the device sits on the coffee table, Felicity steels her nerves against what this may or may not mean. “A farewell period? I get to say goodbye to whoever I want?”

 

_ That is correct.  _

 

“Oliver,” Felicity says, before the device has even finished speaking to her. “I want Oliver.”

 

A pinwheel appears on the screen again, loading for a brief moment. 

 

_ Your meeting with Oliver Queen has been arranged.  _

 

* * *

  
  


They meet up at the same cafe where they first met one another. It all happens quickly; she’s barely wrapped her head around the idea of being finished with this system when she’s being told where she needs to be to see Oliver. That’s the trick, she supposes. It’s probably smarter not to leave room for opportunity to doubt. 

 

By now, she’s long since been back to doubting just how great the outcome of all this could be. Out of all the people she’s been paired with, Felicity knows well the one she would choose to stay with on the other side of all this, but a sinking feeling in her stomach tells her that it won’t likely be him. She’s never heard of any pairing in the system imploding quite like she and Oliver did. 

 

“Felicity,” Oliver’s voice is weighed down despite the smile on his face when he sees her.

 

“Oliver,” she says in turn, suddenly feeling more than a bit awkward about the situation. Weeks have passed since she last saw him, every hazy day a reminder that they could still be enjoying their lives together. Standing in front of the coffee shop, the air feels like a stalemate. She waits for him to make a move, tired of taking the lead all the time. 

 

Oliver seems to understand, because he always does. He opens his arms and she easily slips between them, barely fighting a sigh at the familiar fit of their bodies against one another. 

 

“It’s my last day,” he says solemnly, right against her ear. She leans further into his embrace because she can. For now, she can.  

 

“Mine too.”

 

Something in the air changes then. Oliver takes a long breath and Felicity feels every second of it. 

 

“It’s almost like-” she starts before stopping herself, shaking her head at the thought that was about to manifest itself. Oliver pulls away from her, far enough to look her in the face. He doesn’t have to say anything to urge her on, they’re long past that. She’s too far past the point of caring to bother holding back anything she has to say. 

 

“This whole thing,” she gestures around to the space between them, the street, the greater concept of the entire system, the way things are for them and everyone else caught up in the whims of this algorithm. 

 

“It doesn’t feel fair,” Oliver finishes for her, understanding what she’s feeling without her having to spell it out. He’s good like that. It only makes the sting of this whole scenario a little sharper than before. There’s a bite to his voice that Felicity knows isn’t directed at her, a defiance that echoes the persistent feeling in her gut that’s been telling her for hours now to do  _ something _ , anything other than letting a code in a computer dictate who she spends the rest of her life with.    
  
“Fuck it,” Oliver says suddenly. When Felicity pulls herself from her thoughts, his shoulders are squared and he’s pinning her with a look that is equal parts devotion and resistance. “Let’s just go. They can’t hold us here. I want a life with you, Felicity. If it means skipping out on this whole mess then so be it.”

 

Everything after that happens in a blur. She takes his hand and they make their way to the end of the street, the same place where she walked into this whole mess all those months ago. 

 

Their steps turn quicker the further they get from the community, until Oliver is running and she is sprinting to keep up with him. Side by side, towards the edge of the town. A laugh bubbles up in her chest and Felicity lets it out freely. 

 

As they reach the edge of the town, the air becomes thinner. Gradually, Felicity finds her breath slowing, her steps beginning to drag. Oliver experiences the same, reaching out for her wrist as their breathing becomes more and more labored. All at once, she blinks and the world around them is directionless and dark. 

  
  


When she opens her eyes again, Felicity recognizes nothing about her surroundings. The room is not so much a room as it is a vast space that doesn’t seem to have any beginning or end. Scattered around her in neat formations are hundreds of copies of herself; different clothes, different haircuts, all of them playing through scenes like clips on a movie reel. 

 

Briefly, Felicity wonders if she’s dreaming, but her feet are on solid ground underneath her and her thoughts are clear as ever. 

 

She focuses in on one version of herself; this girl is running through the gated, safe community much like Felicity herself last remembers herself being. She watches herself frantically grab the hand of a man beside her and that’s when she notices that no matter where she looks, in nearly every scenario she sees herself, she is standing next to the same person. 

 

Standing next to  _ Oliver _ . 

 

“It’s all a simulation,” she hears herself say, the words sounding miles away to her own ears and it doesn’t make sense, not yet. It does nothing to help Oliver’s confused panic. Her mind races through years of coding and data and trying desperately to work out exactly how the system works, all of the pieces finally fitting together.

 

The same familiar, automated voice rings out in the room but her mind is racing too quickly to keep up with what’s being said.  _ This is it _ , she thinks to herself, too busy watching the different versions of them disappear to bother voicing her thoughts.  _ This is the final pairing.  _

 

The realization knocks the breath out of her and she’s left gasping. “None of this is real,” she says, looking up to see realization dawning on Oliver’s face. His gaze falls on her, just as wide-eyed as she knows she must be. 

 

“None of it,” he echoes quietly, and then louder, “None of it, except you.” 

 

This was the test. It was never about who the system paired her with. It was about who  _ she _ chose. It was about the two of them choosing one another, no matter the circumstances or the obstacles. 

 

Looking around, she realizes that she knows all of these women, knows them as more than just versions of herself. She knows their stories and how they ended up where they are. The memories of all those simulations flood her mind. All at once, she sees every single scenario that lead her back to Oliver again and again. For the first time since she set out to see what this system had to offer, everything is so overwhelmingly clear. 

 

Oliver’s hand in hers is the only thing grounding her to this reality, so she holds on tight and he squeezes back even tighter. The room fades together, copies of themselves drifting away bit by bit until the two of them have faded into blackness as well. It should be terrifying, but Felicity finds herself ready for whatever comes next.

 

* * *

 

When she wakes again, it’s to a room full of morning light. There is a large window cut into the wall she’s facing, draped with sheer curtains that do little to ward off the sunlight coming from outside. For once in her life, Felicity doesn’t mind that it wakes her. The question of just how real this situation is crosses her mind for a split second but she stretches her legs and curls her fingers into the blanket over top of her and she can’t explain it, but she knows it’s real this time. 

 

There is a familiar weight on the other side of the bed, a dip in the mattress that she’s become accustomed to. 

 

_ Oliver. _

 

Something settles inside of her, quiet and content. The last piece of the puzzle slipping into place, loose ends tied into a neat bow. Solved, finally. 

 

When she rolls to face him, he is already awake, already watching her; that impossibly loving, devoted look in his eyes. 

 

For the first time, Felicity doesn’t worry over whether it belongs to her. They’ll both still be here come tomorrow. This, she knows, is as real as it gets. 

 

A nervous, giddy laugh bubbles up and out of her mouth before she can stop it. His eyes light up and she realizes she doesn’t want to hide anything anymore. 

 

“This is it now,” she says, mostly a whisper, riding on the end of her quiet laughter. “We did it.”

 

Oliver smiles, something that could light up the room if the sun hadn’t beat him to it already. “I’d do it a thousand times more.”

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](twitter.com/igbtsmoak)   
>  [tumblr](mayapenelopes.tumblr.com)   
>  [ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/A1281BXQl)


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